That Most Hated Colour Red
by legend-of-stelena
Summary: A look through the life of Angelina 'Madam Red' Dalles; a life full of the envy and unrequited love for a certain Phantomhive that ultimately ruined her. (Mostly) takes place before the main series' events. Oneshot. Cover photo by airin-ater on Deviantart.


**This fic is basically a look through the life of Angelina Dalles (aka Madam Red) and how her unrequited love for a certain Phantomhive affected it all. I did take some liberties with quite a few things, but the main plot points are all derived directly from the manga/anime, including some quotes here and there.  
 **Song to listen to: _Always_ by Beth Crowley**  
Flashbacks and thoughts are in _italics_.  
 _I do not own Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji (the wonderful Yana Toboso does!) because if I did, the Phantomhive family wouldn't be so damn tragic.  
Cover photo by airin-ater (deviantart/_** ** _/art/Red-409450183)_**

 **Enjoy!**

 _ **Prompt 7: Outside (Angelina Dalles; before the main series' events)**_

* * *

It was the hot summer of 1869. The sun completely scorched London's cobblestone streets and not even a parasol could shield anyone from the harsh rays; the skirts one had to wear were overbearing and felt heavier than usual as women nearly passed out from being exposed to the heat for too long while running errands.  
Angelina Dalles was only thankful her father had arranged a visit to the English countryside in mid-July when the temperature in London was at its worst. It was quiet and quaint there without all the hustle and bustle of carriages, smoke, and crowds causing more heat than there already was.  
Angelina and her older sister, Rachel, would be spending the following few months at Phantomhive manor, one of the grandest estates England had to offer and home of the infamous Earl Vincent Phantomhive. Infamous why? She wasn't sure as of yet, though many ladies loved to gossip about him at the tea parties and social gatherings Angelina herself despised. They went on and on about his looks and the charms that came with them and how despite these things, he was not betrothed to anyone, making him England's most eligible bachelor.  
"What do you think it will be like, Anne?" Rachel asked, her blue eyes wide and vivid. "The estate?"  
"I can only imagine it will be large," Angelina replied with a giggle.  
"Oh, well, of course!" Rachel answered enthusiastically "But what about _him_? The Earl Phantomhive?"  
"If his reputation precedes him, I'm not sure what to expect," Angelina nervously added.  
Rachel only gave a pleased hum and turned to look outside.  
With the sun hitting her sister perfectly, Angelina understood why Rachel was always fawned over. The older Dalles sister had long, beautifully flowing strawberry blonde hair that reached her lower back, light skin and deep, midnight blue eyes to tie it all together.  
Although Angelina was jealous of her sister's looks, it was difficult to hate her for it. Rachel was one of the kindest girls to ever grace the planet and couldn't even hurt a fly. She never pretended to be something she wasn't and was the only person to ever give Angelina a proper compliment. She looked up to her older sister and loved her, even if she herself could get a bit envious at times.  
What would the summer, especially the notorious Earl Phantomhive, hold in store for them?

* * *

Angelina was awoken by a jolt as the carriage rode over a bump in the path.  
She pushed aside the curtains covering the day's light and sucked in a breath as the largest mansion she had ever seen came into view, engulfing the rest of the environment.  
Phantomhive Manor.  
Angelina reached over and nudged her older sister awake.  
"Goodness!" Rachel gasped when she saw the estate. "I knew it was big, but I never imagined it would be this grand!"  
"It's beautiful," Angelina said more to herself than to Rachel.  
The carriage slowed down to a halt and Angelina heard a set of steps being put outside the door. She adjusted her hat in order to cover her hair while Rachel gleamed at her with a perfect set of teeth.  
The door opened and an aging gentleman (the butler, presumably) faced them.  
"Welcome to Phantomhive Manor." he proclaimed, extending a hand to help them out of the vehicle.  
Angelina exited first and immediately put a hand up to block the bright sun until her eyesight adjusted.  
When her vision cleared, she spotted dozens of bushes with bright flowers of every colour and statues of angels and saints adorning the walkways. Birds were chirping all around her as the wind blew softly through the trees, lightly rustling the luscious green leaves. The estate was already magnificent and she was only at the front door!  
Then her eyes saw the boy or rather, the _man_ who could only be the Earl Phantomhive.  
The very first thought to enter her mind was that he was incredibly handsome, more so than the rumours led her to believe. He was about eighteen or nineteen—about Rachel's age—and had stark black hair with a friendly pair of chocolate brown eyes. He wasn't extremely tall, but he made up for it with the aura of elegance he carried himself with. Despite his overwhelming sense of regality, he seemed more down-to-earth than most nobles; as if he could go off running at any given moment without a moment's hesitation.  
The second thing that came to her mind was that he was smiling at her.  
"Good day to you, Lady Dalles. I hope your ride was a smooth one," he said, his voice sounding smooth and courteous.  
Heavens, he was amazing.  
"Please, feel free to refer to us by our given names," Rachel requested, coming up behind Angelina. "I am Rachel Dalles, and this is my younger sister, Angelina."  
"It is a pleasure to meet you both, Lady Angelina and Lady Rachel." He gave a small bow. "I am Vincent Phantomhive and please, refer to me by my given name as well. On behalf of Phantomhive Manor, we welcome you both and wish for you to feel as comfortable here as possible."  
Rachel bowed her head and nudged Angelina to do the same.  
"We thank you, Sir Vincent," Rachel responded.  
Angelina herself was too stunned to speak still.  
Vincent motioned to the older man that had opened the carriage. "This is the manor's head butler, Tanaka. If either of you has any needs at all, please, call for him. Our home is now yours. Tanaka, please lead them to their rooms."  
"Yes, my lord," Tanaka honourably replied. "If you would both follow me, please. The others shall take care of your belongings."  
Tanaka led the Dalles sisters inside while both girls continued to sneak glances back at Vincent in the meanwhile.  
At one point, Angelina looked back a few seconds after Rachel had. She ended up finding them both with eyes locked directly on each other with a shining smile adorning both of their faces, much to the younger Dalles' dismay.

 _No, this can't be like all the other times. It can't. It_ won't _,_ Angelina told herself as they left the view of Vincent Phantomhive.

* * *

A week after their arrival at Phantomhive manor, a cool day finally blessed England with its presence.  
Angelina was prepared to spend the whole day outside walking through the gardens by herself. Not expecting to be noticed or bothered by anyone other than perhaps a few servants, she chose to not wear a hat or bonnet to hide her hair and simply wore it in two braids.  
She had always hated her flaming red hair. Where Rachel had inherited their mother's amber tresses, Angelina had gotten their father's red locks. She didn't perceive the colour to be particularly good-looking at all and she was often mocked for it as a little girl. She longed for her sister's hair, which had always been complimented by the other school girls and noblewomen.  
Angelina raced through the halls to avoid anyone's gaze for too long as she made her way outside.  
"You are not hiding your hair today," she heard a voice say.  
Angelina stopped in her tracks at the sound of the silky deep voice she instantly knew belonged to Vincent.  
No! He couldn't see her hair like this! He would hate it, just as everyone did, whether they admitted it or not! Goodness, what would he tell her? She knew he would try to spare her feelings, but she was already too familiar with the fake smiles and compliments that accompanied her hair to fall for such tricks.  
"I'm sorry, were you heading out to the gardens?"  
"I...y-yes," she answered nervously. She had no idea how Rachel could be so confident, especially in the presence of someone like the Earl Phantomhive.  
"May I join you? There is something I wish to show you." He gave a smirk that made her heart feel as though it had flipped over.  
"Alright...please, allow me to fetch a bonnet from my room first—"  
"Nonsense! You are fine as you are now," he insisted.  
Angelina froze.  
Did he...compliment her?  
"Ve-very well, if you insist," Angelina responded.

Vincent led her to the gardens in the back, filling the silence with idle chatter and stories of his school days. He spoke in ways that didn't require her to answer very much and she appreciated that he considered her shyness.  
"Ah, here we are!" he announced when they reached a bush full of flowers the same red as her hair. "If you don't mind my asking, why do you hide your hair away?" he questioned.  
"I...It's the same colour as my father's was. I have always hated it, honestly. I was made fun of as a little girl for the intense colour, thus I hide it way to prevent those things from happening again. I have never felt that sort of ridicule in my life. My hair makes me a walking target for insults and ridicules," she confessed, surprised with herself. She had only ever discussed such things with Rachel. "I am no beauty like my elder sister."  
Vincent faced her and widened his smile. "Your hair is very beautiful, Anne, like spider lilies blazing in the fields. That is why I wished to bring you here. These lilies," he motioned to the flowers before them, "are the same rich shade of red. The colour makes you different, Anne. Unique. You should not have to fight against what is only natural. That red really suits you."  
Angelina was speechless.  
He...he liked her hair. The thing she hated most about herself was something he liked, something he called beautiful.  
 _Beautiful_.  
She had only ever heard that word directed towards Rachel.  
Yes, Angelina had grown to accept the fact that she would never be as stunning as her sister was, but it still bothered her that not a single person outside of her family used such words when referring to her. Yet here was Vincent Phantomhive, England's most eligible bachelor and the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes on at that, calling her red hair beautiful.  
"You...you like it? Truly?" Angelina worried, finally breaking herself from her reverie to say something.  
He gave her another smile. "Why, of course. It would be nice if you didn't hide it all the time. There is nothing shameful about being different from others. It is your character; you should take more pride in it."  
Angelina felt her cheeks go as red as her hair. She looked into his warm brown eyes and felt herself sinking into their chocolate depths.

She loved red, she decided. Yes...it was a marvelous colour.

* * *

More weeks passed and before Angelina could realize it, it was already mid-September. A seamstress from London had traveled to the Phantomhive manor in order to create fine, one-of-a-kind dresses for her and Rachel to be used at the ball the house was to hold at the end of the summer, on the 20th of September. They had both insisted that the gowns they brought with them were fine, but Vincent was adamant and called the seamstress over to design completely new ones, courtesy of the Phantomhives.  
Rachel wore a pink gown with maroon ribbons. Her amber hair flowed freely down her back and with the exception of a light pink blush on her cheeks, she wore no makeup at all. She didn't need it, after all. She looked exceptional as she always did.  
Yet this time, Angelina didn't feel a single ounce of jealousy. Her own dress was the same vivacious shade of red as her hair with white frills adorning the neckline. A large crimson bow held it all together at her back and her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail with only a few strands of hair left next to her face. Her once long bangs were cut much shorter and her own makeup was light.  
"I never thought I'd see you wear a dress of that colour," Rachel commented with a smile. "It suits you, Anne. I love it! Whyever the change of heart?"  
Angelina looked at the ornate carpet on the floor. "I've learned to love red lately."  
Rachel grinned happily. "I'm glad to hear it! Now let us go. The guests will be waiting."  
Angelina followed closely behind her sister as they made their way through the mansion's halls to the foyer.  
Ever since the day Vincent had complimented her hair, Angelina had begun to love red. She wore it whenever she could and he always expressed a kind statement whenever she did. However, she had no scarlet dresses to show off to him. She had always made sure the colour stayed as far away from her clothing as it could.  
Yet today was different. It had to be.  
For over the past weeks she had been there, she had fallen in love with him.  
It had scared her when she had realized her love for Vincent Phantomhive. She was only fifteen after all; she knew nothing of love. Nevertheless, the pull she felt whenever she saw him, the yearning she sensed when she didn't and the race of her heartbeat when he spoke to her was evidence enough in her opinion.  
He had acted as the perfect gentleman, never once hesitating to start a pleasant conversation with her. He understood her slight nervousness and shyness and made up for it in their talks. He told her of his days at Weston College, his time as its Sapphire Owl House's prefects and of the various antics he and his friends pulled during their time there; of his childhood and often estranged father. He even told her of how he and his sister, Francis, often used to duel and how she would somehow always win whenever they did.  
Over time, Angelina Dalles had come to know Vincent Phantomhive and in turn, had come to love him.  
Tonight, in her best clothes and jewels, she would tell him how she felt. Oh, he just had to accept her feelings! He was so very sweet and chivalrous to her… he had to feel something too.

Angelina and Rachel soon reached the foyer and met up with Vincent, who introduced them to the guests attending the party. Angelina forced herself into thoughtless conversations and a dance or two before she decided that the time had come to confess to Vincent.  
However, as she roamed around the ballroom, she couldn't find him anywhere. She searched the dining room, sitting room and the main hall to no avail while her heart raced anxiously.  
Where was he?  
During her quest, she managed to find Tanaka and was able to ask him of his master's whereabouts.  
"My young master claimed that he was to depart to his study for a bit," the butler explained. "If he has yet to return, he is surely still there."  
Angelina sighed in relief. "Thank you, Tanaka."  
Without a second's thought, she began making her way through the familiar corridors until she reached the study. The door was open a crack, letting a thin piece of cozy light enter the dimly lit hallway. She crept silently across the carpeted ground and nudged open the door.  
She froze.  
Vincent was indeed there as Tanaka had said. He was seated on the chaise near the room's windows, the oil lamp's light casting a warm glow on his skin.  
Only he wasn't alone, for Rachel was sitting on his lap as the two were wrapped in a rather passionate embrace.  
Angelina knew that it would have been better had she immediately left then and there, but her feet were firmly planted on the ground. Her breathing grew fast and heavy as she felt her heart shatter into a million tiny pieces in her very core.  
She must have made a noise, for they both stopped and faced her with matching expressions of shock and slight embarrassment.  
"I...I'm sorry for intruding! I was told I would find you here, but I had no clue that..." Angelina stuttered, struggling to hold back her tears.  
Rachel gave a soft, musical laugh as her blush began fading away.  
Vincent held up a hand. "It's alright, Anne," he said with his infamous smirk. "I knew it would be a risk to sneak away from my own festivities. Better you discover us then a stuffy, old nobleman or worse yet, your father."  
Angelina forced herself to laugh.  
"We were going to tell you," Vincent continued. "Actually, we were going to announce it tonight at the end of the ball."  
"A-announce what?" Angelina asked.  
"Oh, Anne, it's wonderful news! I had hoped to tell you in a better way, but what can be done? You see, Vincent and I are to be married!" Rachel gleefully exclaimed.  
Angelina's entire world stopped. If her heart had been beating up to that point, it surely did so no longer.  
Vincent was to marry Rachel.  
The man she loved was going to wed her sister.  
Angelina put on a wide smile for her older sibling. "That's wonderful! I am incredibly happy for the both of you! Have you decided upon a date yet?"  
Rachel began babbling about how the details hadn't been decided yet while Vincent looked at her endearingly, his eyes showcasing the pride he had for this woman who was to be his future wife.  
The couple eventually decided to head back to the ball before anyone else came up to look for them while Angelina stayed behind for a few moments.  
Through all of Rachel's chattering, Angelina learned that Vincent had proposed about a week before in the gardens, near the same spider lilies he had shown Angelina over a month before.  
He had chosen Rachel.  
Of course he had.  
It was always Rachel. Stunning, intelligent, sweet and perfect Rachel. The one woman to ever be wholly kind to Angelina was the one woman that stole the sole thing Angelina wanted.  
She scoffed at herself. How could she possibly believe that she had stood a chance next to Rachel in the battle for his heart? Everyone always preferred Rachel, everyone always loved Rachel—  
Angelina bit her tongue. She couldn't show them a single bit of her misery or the tears that fell down her face. She would wash up, return to the ball and her sister's side and be the joyful little sister she was meant to be. She would show only happiness and excitement for Rachel and Vincent, regardless of how she felt on the inside. Even if Angelina was dying internally, she would never let either of them see it.

Although she had lost any chance with Vincent, one thing remained certain in Angelina's head.  
She hated red.

* * *

Angelina had been there for Rachel every step of the way throughout the endless wedding preparations. She had helped her older sister select a dress, choose a cake flavour, design the invitations, arrange the flowers and plan which music was to play and when. Through it all, she had been the perfect, happy little sister for Rachel and the older Dalles was none the wiser that Angelina was in love with her fiancé. Angelina had kept her distance from Vincent all this time, unable to even look him in the eye without wanting to bury her face in his chest and bawl her eyes out.  
He would be her brother-in-law. She would go on to spend every Christmas and every birthday with him, not as his wife, but as his pleasant sister. She would see her sister be happy with the man she herself loved; see them age together and have children; become the family Angelina could only dream of having with him. It would never be Vincent whom she saw first thing in the morning when she looked her worst, it wouldn't be him caring for her when she became ill, nor would it be his hand that she sought underneath the dinner table. She would never bear his children and have them call her 'mother'.

Those honours were reserved for Rachel.

"How do I look?" Rachel asked, turning away from the floor length mirror to show Angelina the pure white dress she wore.  
"Amazing, as always," Angelina answered, trying her hardest to avoid making her tone sound bitter. "Vincent is a lucky man…"  
Rachel giggled. "I can only hope so," she trailed off. She sighed happily. "I really do love him, Anne. I could never have imagined love to feel this way, nor could I have believed it would be directed towards the infamous Earl Phantomhive." She stepped away from the mirror and grabbed Angelina's hands. "Oh, Anne, I cannot wait for you to feel the way I do today! You're still young, only fifteen, so there may be some time, but when you experience these emotions...you will feel complete."  
 _I already understand,_ Angelina wanted to say. _I may only be fifteen (and nearly sixteen at that), but I have felt this way for quite a while now, Rachel. I love him too...I always have. Yet he chose you._  
"Your veil!" Angelina alerted in order to change the subject. "Let me help you put it on."  
Angelina faked her enthusiasm and assisted Rachel in setting the veil perfectly on her head. Together, they put the finishing touches of jewelry and makeup, not that Rachel needed either one of those things.  
Eventually, a soft knock came on the door. It opened to reveal Tanaka with a silver pocket watch in hand announcing that it was time to go.  
Rachel took a set of deep breaths as she and Angelina were led to the carriage that would take them to the church where she would become a happy bride.  
As the carriage rolled through the journey, Angelina forced herself to avoid thoughts of the life her sister was to have with Vincent to no avail. All she could think of was their future family and how wonderful the name Rachel Phantomhive sounded to the ears; how Vincent would go on to introduce her sister as his wife while Angelina remained the faithful sister-in-law; how the newlyweds would dance together the entire night until they left for their honeymoon and how in less than a day's time, they would be giving themselves over to each other completely with no boundaries between them—  
"Anne? Anne, are you alright? You've gone white!" Rachel stressed.  
Angelina sucked in a rapid breath. "I'm alright," she reassured. "This is your day, please do not fret. I-I simply haven't eaten very much today, is all."  
"You and I both, we must sneak some food as soon as we can," Rachel promised with a grin.

As soon as the carriage door opened, both Dalles sisters were quickly escorted out and rushed inside. The entrance to the ceremony itself was now shut, but Angelina could still hear the chatter of Dalles and Phantomhive family and friends.  
Without even needing to see, she knew that Vincent would be standing straight and proud at the podium with his best friend, Diedrich, right next to him. When the time eventually came and the music started, Angelina would walk towards the altar and wait for Rachel to come in escorted by their father.  
Before Angelina could realize a thing, the musicians had begun playing and she started her walk in a blur. She tried not to imagine herself as the bride as she made her own way down the carpeted path towards Vincent and she mentally scolded herself when her mind did go there.  
Rachel had allowed Angelina to choose her own dress and much to the older Dalles' surprise, Angelina had chosen a rose red. Truth be told, she wasn't even sure why she had chosen the colour that had crushed her. Perhaps it was a punishment to herself for loving a man she could never have, a man she knew loved her sister with all his heart.  
Even as Vincent watched Rachel glide down the aisle with all the adoration the world could offer, Angelina found herself unable to hate either of them. She watched him take Rachel's hand as she approached the altar, pressing a chaste kiss onto the back of it.  
He smiled the most charming smile as the priest began the ceremony.  
Rachel whispered to him silently as the priest droned on.  
Angelina felt her heart crack as they stared lovingly into each other's eyes.  
She listened to every word that left their mouths as they spoke their vows of forever and their promises of eternal love.  
She watched them both take the pen offered to them and sign the script that represented their bond.  
She saw the soft exchanging of the rings made of the finest gold and gemstones the Phantomhives could afford.  
Finally, Angelina heard the ever-careful ' _I do'_ slip through her sister's lips before she sealed her marriage to the man they both loved with a kiss. As the music roared around them once more, Angelina clapped along with the rest of the crowd.  
Even through all the preparations, ceremony and heartbreak, Angelina couldn't muster up a single ounce of hatred towards either newlywed. Was she jealous? Of course. Yet despite it all, she didn't hate her sister or Vincent, her new brother-in-law.  
At the end of the day, the two people Angelina loved most in this world were Vincent Phantomhive and Rachel Da—no, Phantomhive.

Vincent and Rachel _Phantomhive_.

Anyone, even their worst enemies, couldn't deny the obvious love that was shared between them. Try as she might, Angelina saw that they were happy together. That was all she wanted for them. If they needed to be together in order to achieve that happiness, how could she stop them?  
They were happy and that was all that mattered.  
So when Angelina smiled as they shared their first dance as man and wife, her joy was genuine.

* * *

Five years later, Rachel bore her first child, the heir to the Phantomhive estate.  
Angelina knew that her sister and Vincent had been trying to have their own child for the half a decade they had been married with no success. They had come close twice before, but after an unfortunate miscarriage with the first and a bad fall claiming the second, their attempts had been fruitless.  
Which was why when Rachel had gathered Angelina and Vincent together to announce her third pregnancy, they both promised to take care of her at whatever the cost to protect both her and the baby.  
Just like the wedding, Angelina had been with her sister every step of the way. She made sure her sister's health was practically impeccable (Angelina was becoming a doctor after all) and that Rachel remained well fed.  
However, it was Vincent who got the short end of the stick. He had to deal with his wife's hormones, morning sickness, and mixed emotions while all Angelina had to take care of were Rachel's strong, sometimes odd, cravings and physical symptoms.  
Even when she was at her worst, Vincent stayed glued to Rachel's side with a smile ready for her at all times. He hired countless workers to make sure the Funtom company stayed up and running in his absence and even more people to take care of the Queen's matters when he was unable to. All the while, he soothed his wife and did the best he could to ensure her comfort.  
 _He truly is the perfect husband_ , Angelina quickly realized with a sigh. How she longed for him to be her spouse all those nine months.  
She thought herself to have healed from her unrequited love after six long years, but after accidentally catching a sweet moment between the Phantomhives, Angelina knew that she still felt the exact same way.

 _"It still amazes me that there is a child—our child—growing inside me right now," Rachel proclaimed with a giggle.  
_ _Angelina stopped in front of the door. It was open widely enough for her to see the scene before her but not enough for anyone inside to see or hear her.  
_ _Vincent, who knelt on the ground next to the chair Rachel sat in, perched his head onto her kneecap.  
_ _"I can only hope this one will not leave us as the others have…" he sadly trailed off.  
_ _"Oh, darling," Rachel soothed, smoothing his hair down. "Do not fret about such things. We must think happy thoughts."  
_ _He gave a light laugh. "I suppose so." He moved slightly higher to put his arms on her legs to rest his head on, like a small boy asking for a bedtime story. He poked her stomach with a finger.  
_ _"What do you think it will be? A boy or a girl?" he asked.  
_ _"I haven't the slightest idea," Rachel responded.  
_ _He grinned. "Well, no matter what gender they are, they shall be spoiled rotten."  
_ _"Vincent!" Rachel joyfully scolded.  
_ _"What? Like father, like son," he answered with a smirk.  
_ _"What happened to not knowing the gender?" she teased.  
_ _"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, love," he replied, feigning innocence.  
_ _"Don't play innocent with me!" Rachel reprimanded, not even bothering to hide her laugh.  
_ _Angelina turned away then, biting her lip as she tried to hold back her tears.  
_ _Six years had passed and nothing had changed. Her heart still cracked at the sight of them happy; at the idea that if things had gone differently, it could have been Angelina sitting there with Vincent.  
She shook her head free of the forbidden thoughts._

The baby eventually turned out to be a boy, much to Vincent's joy.

On December 14, 1875, Ciel Phantomhive, future heir to the Phantomhive fortune, was born. He bore the same dark hair of his father and the big, bright blue eyes that could only belong to his mother. He was a beautiful child born to two perfect people.  
Angelina hadn't realized how much a child between Rachel and Vincent would hurt her until he stood next to Rachel as they proudly gazed upon their healthy newborn. The baby was an embodiment of their combined beauty, a physical representation of how deeply their love for each other ran.  
When Angelina held Ciel for the first time, it killed her to see those sapphire eyes paired with that jet black hair staring up at her with all the innocence and naïveté of the world.  
 _This child is in this world because Vincent chose Rachel,_ she thought. _This child was created because they gave themselves over to each other completely: mind, body, heart, and soul. He is here because she took_ him _from me._  
Before that moment, there had been nothing tangible to signify Angelina's heartbreak. It had all been mental and emotional—never a corporeal symbol.  
Now there was.  
And that symbol was Ciel Phantomhive.

* * *

Angelina was in her mid-twenties and just finishing up medical school when she met her husband.  
It had been at a party hosted at the Phantomhive manor she still spent every summer since her sister's wedding at. The man had approached her and asked to dance. Ecstatic to finally be noticed by a man, she took his hand without thinking twice.  
His name was James Burnett, a baron from Manchester.  
She had a joyous time as he twirled her around the room and he acted as a pleasant distraction from Angelina's envy. He was the perfect gentleman towards her and after only a month or so of small outings in London to Hyde Park or Blackfriars Bridge, they were engaged.  
However, Angelina still loved Vincent deeply. A part of her still broke at the sight of his joy with Rachel and their son. Despite all the time that had passed, Angelina had never stopped caring for him.  
When things with Burnett had begun becoming serious, she confessed to him that she harboured feelings for another.

 _"I have a man I cannot forget, James. I've felt this way for him for years—since I was fifteen to be exact—and I am still unable to let him go," Angelina revealed.  
_ _Burnett only chuckled. "I had the sneaking suspicion that that was the case. In fact, I believe I can guess who this man is. However, this does not matter to me. All I want is you, my dear, Anne. That is if you'll have me."  
_ _"You...you do not care?"  
_ _He shook his head. "No. I have never known a woman quite like you. If you want me beside you, then there I shall be."_

Thus, she had married him. He knew of her true emotions and remained with her anyways. Rachel had been delighted at the wedding. She relished in the fact that her little sister was finally married, completely oblivious to the fact that it was her own husband whom Angelina truly wished to wed.  
Angelina's life was far from perfect. Yet...she was fine with matters as they were. Yes, she still longed for the one man she could never have, but she was also wed to a wonderful man who accepted her as his wife despite these obvious feelings.

Nevertheless, Vincent was never very far from her thoughts.

* * *

Angelina watched Ciel grow into the perfect image of his parents. She had been there with him and his family every year, sometimes with her husband though often not. She loved him dearly—he was her nephew, after all—but that part of her still envied Rachel for having everything Angelina had always desired for herself.  
Then she discovered that she was pregnant, at long last. After spending dozens upon dozens of afternoons playing with Ciel and his cousin/future fiancée, Elizabeth Midford, she would finally have a child of her own.  
She took a temporary leave from her job at the hospital to guard her own health and spent her days at the home she shared with her husband in London.  
When another hot summer arrived in England's capital just as hot as that original summer in 1869, Angelina had her husband arrange an excursion to the countryside Phantomhive manor until the heat died down.

The trip was the biggest mistake of her life.

On the way, the horses had become unruly, perhaps due to the heat, and began running wild. The carriage, forced to follow the beasts that led it, ran amuck across the road hitting every bump and rock.  
All Angelina remembered from the incident was Burnett reaching over to her in an attempt to cushion the punches the carriage was throwing at her before the wheels struck a ditch. The impact turned the cart over and her world disappeared into black.

Rachel and Vincent were there as soon as Angelina woke up in the hospital. Rachel had torn herself from her husband's arms immediately after the younger Dalles had opened her eyes to enwrap her in a soft, albeit painful hug.  
Although she was happy to see her sister and the man she loved, Angelina was a bit confused.  
"Where is my husband?" she questioned raspily.  
Rachel's arms had become rigid while Vincent's warm smile turned serious. She pulled away and faced Angelina with tears welling up in her eyes.  
"I'm terribly sorry, Anne. He did not survive the crash," Vincent explained, setting a comforting hand onto his wife's shoulder.  
Angelina sucked in a sharp breath.  
So he was gone. He had left her alone once more. Well, she would still have his child to remember him by.  
A knock came at the door and an elderly doctor walked in.  
"Sir and Lady Phantomhive, may I have a moment alone with Miss Dalles, please?"  
 _Miss Dalles._ No longer was she Lady Burnett. The pang that hit her heart was harder than expected. She didn't share a name with anyone anymore. She was simply Miss Dalles while Rachel could still be _Lady_ _Phantomhive._  
Angelina gripped the bedsheets with an iron-tight hold.  
Rachel nodded and Vincent proceeded to lead her out of the room after sending Angelina a sympathetic gaze. She vaguely heard Ciel's tiny voice in the hall before the door was shut once more.  
She was afraid to turn back to the doctor. He would, of course, alert her of her husband's passing but that would be all, would it not?  
Angelina pushed the fear away and faced the elder doctor.  
"I'm afraid your husband is gone, Miss Dalles," the doctor gingerly proclaimed.  
Angelina nodded sadly. "Yes...I was told by my brother-in-law just now…"  
"However, that, unfortunately, is not all that was lost."  
She was on high alert. What else could have been lost? Clearly, she was alive. It would take her time to heal, but other than that she was fine. What was left to lose…?  
No.  
 _No, no, NO, anything but that—  
_ "Your child did not make it through the impact. It was found dead within your womb upon arrival," the doctor confessed. "It was quickly removed. Although, in order to save your life, we were also forced to remove your uterus. From now on, you will be unable to bear children."  
She didn't bother to listen as the doctor continued droning on. In one day, she had lost her husband, her unborn baby and any future child she ever could have had...it didn't matter what he said anymore.  
She had lost everything that she actually had the privilege of calling her own.  
Angelina could no longer contain herself and began sobbing. She set a hand to her stomach where her baby once lay and found wet bandages there. Looking down, the gauze was soaked through with that hated colour seeping in from her wounds.  
Red.  
That damned colour red!  
"I'm so very sorry, Miss Dalles," the doctor finally concluded, sending her a blast of fake sympathy.  
Sorry. She tried not to scoff.  
Apologies wouldn't fix anything. They wouldn't return her husband or baby to her. They wouldn't bring back her happiness or any future child she might have had.

Sorries were meaningless now.

* * *

Angelina spent the following days resting in the hospital. Rachel had come to visit her nearly each day, often accompanied by either Vincent or Ciel.  
The days Vincent came were Angelina's favourites.  
She continued to envy her sister's living child, breathing husband and perfect life. The only damper in Rachel's existence was perhaps her asthma, which had grown stronger over the years. She would often be too weak to play with her son and niece, leaving Angelina to entertain the young children as Vincent either dealt with matters from the Queen or tended to his ailing wife.  
Before the accident, when Angelina was at the hospital, she nursed her patients while performing whatever research she could to find a cure for her sister's asthma. Despite the jealousy that Angelina held for sixteen years, she always held Rachel very close to her heart. She was the one person in Angelina's life who had remained constant—she was always there and always would be. Angelina could depend on her for anything.  
Vincent was the same. She loved him still, even if he would only ever see her as his sister-in-law. Through his ever-so-obvious love for Rachel, he would support Angelina if she needed it. She knew that if she ever required aid, they would help her no matter what.  
Her heart extended towards Ciel as well. The tiny Phantomhive was adorable and innocent in every sense of the words. He couldn't harm anything if he tried, especially with all the love he was being raised with.  
At the end of the day, although they had caused her more heartbreak than she could ever fathom, Angelina cherished the Phantomhive family. They would always stay with her.

Or so she had believed.

It was December 14th, 1885—Ciel's tenth birthday.

Finally free from her hospital confinement, Angelina had organized for a carriage to deliver her to the estate in order to celebrate her nephew's birthday at Rachel's request, though she herself wasn't in the mood to attend.  
The ride was painfully slow due to the winter conditions plaguing the nation. She had brought a book to keep herself occupied in the meantime; a copy of William Shakespeare's _Hamlet_.  
The carriage had stopped abruptly.  
"Mi-Miss Dalles!" the driver shouted.  
Raising an annoyed eyebrow, Angelina gave an exasperated sigh and opened up the door to see what was the matter.  
"Why have you stopped—" she began scolding.  
Nothing could have prepared her for the horror she witnessed when she stepped outside into the cold air.  
The entire mansion was ablaze. Bright orange and red flames were flaring out of every window and open cranny as black smoke billowed into the air. The once cream white of the house was turning a dark, ugly gray that approached black as fire claimed the Phantomhive manor.  
Angelina ran to the front of the house but was stopped by her driver before she could hastily enter.  
"No, Miss Dalles! You mustn't go in!" he yelled.  
All of her thoughts stopped then. She couldn't think straight; she had to find Rachel and Vincent and Ciel, she had to make sure they were safe—  
"Miss Dalles, no!" The driver pulled her arm back and it was only then that Angelina realized that she had even moved her feet.  
She turned to face him. "What are you still doing here?! Head to the nearest town and fetch help! This is an order, go! Now!"  
The driver, too stunned to go against her, only nodded, fetched a horse and rode off.  
Angelina turned back towards the burning house and ran inside against the driver's previous wishes.  
The fire was stronger on the sides of the house compared to the middle where the parlour was. Every piece of furniture, wall and priceless painting had already been reduced to ugly frames of what they once were. Heat hotter than that of the infamous summer of 1869 seethed into her bones as smoke slowly began filling her lungs.  
Nothing had been salvaged. She had to get out _now_.  
She ran back out into the winter air and faced the mansion she could no longer call home. Everything in it was destroyed...surely Vincent, Rachel, and Ciel had managed to escape, right?  
 _RIGHT?!  
_ After seconds, minutes, hours, God knew how long, she felt herself go numb as she fainted onto the unstained snow as the gray December sky was dyed that most hated crimson red.

 _Miss Dalles! Miss Dalles, please wake up!_  
 _Lady Angelina—_  
Angelina snapped her eyes open. She was seated in an extremely comfy chair in what appeared to be someone's lounge.  
"Miss Dalles?" a man with fair hair asked. "Miss Dalles, I am this town's head medic. Are you alright?"  
Angelina put a hand to her head to ease the pounding headache she had. "I suppose so. What happened…?"  
Everything came back to her then. She saw the consuming fire and the ugly black soot staining the snow; the sound of a deteriorating mansion and that ever present red filling the sky.  
"What do you remember, Miss Dalles?" the doctor inquired.  
"The...the manor. It was burning," she shakily replied. "The Phantomhive manor...my sister's home…Please, please tell me—my sister, my brother-in-law, my nephew, are they safe? Please don't lie to me! I beg of you to tell me!" Angelina cried.  
The doctor hesitated.  
She had been here in this scene before only a few weeks prior. It was a near mirror image of the moment she had woken up after the crash that claimed her husband and child.  
...What would she be told this time?  
Rachel and Vincent...surely they had made it out safely. Surely Ciel was with them. The fire, unfortunately, had to have claimed quite a few servants, but the heads of the house had to be just fine.  
"Miss Dalles...are your sister and brother-in-law Rachel and Vincent Phantomhive?"  
"Yes! Are they alright?" she asked in anticipation, her heart pounding in her chest. She gripped the blanket wrapped around her in anxiety.  
The doctor looked down into his lap. "They...they were found dead in the manor. Or rather, what was left of them."  
Time stopped.  
"Th-that's impossible. It can't have been them," she denied.  
He sighed. "Two things were recovered from the scene. Perhaps you can assist us in identifying them. We believe them to have belonged to the heads of the house."  
The doctor stood from his seat and produced a small bag from his front pocket. He opened it and placed the contents in her outstretched hand.  
One of them was a brooch, quite damaged from the incident. It depicted a small, white lamb set against a sapphire blue background that she could see despite the burnt bits caused by the fire. An ornate amber border surrounded it.

 _"At least your name has a pretty meaning, Anne," a ten-year-old Rachel Dalles explained. "Angelina means 'messenger' or 'angel.'"_  
 _"What does your name mean, Rachel?" Angelina curiously added._  
 _"It comes from the word for 'ewe,' which is a female sheep or lamb." She crossed her arms defiantly. "I've the name of a farm animal."_  
 _Angelina laughed._

The brooch was undeniably Rachel's. Vincent had given it to her at Christmas, shortly after Ciel had been born. The lamb was for her name meaning, the sapphire for her eyes and the amber border for her hair. Ciel had been so fascinated with it as an infant whenever she wore it and often toyed with it when she pinned it to her shawl.  
Oh God.  
The second item was smaller in size. It was a golden ring with bits of ash covering the edges, but otherwise still in near perfect condition. It was a ring she had seen hundreds of times before on the right hand of an infamous Earl. Despite the soot, Angelina could see the Phantomhive crest clear as day.  
Vincent's ring.  
"They were found near one another next to a pair of badly burnt bodies. I hate to ask such a thing of you, however, it is necessary to know. Do these items belong to the Count and Countess Phantomhive?"  
Tears filled her vision, turning the pieces of jewellery in her hand into warped splotches. Angelina fell to her knees and clutched the ring and brooch to her chest as if they were her very life force; her eyes pouring out her sorrows. Her heart raced yet felt as though it were dragging itself along at the same time as everything she had ever loved was stolen away from her.

Her husband.

Her unborn child.

The first man she ever loved.

Her sister and best friend.

 _Gone._

"Were any children found in the fire?" she tearfully questioned.  
"No. Only the bodies of adults have been recovered thus far," the doctor explained.  
Ciel hadn't been found. Perhaps he escaped?  
But Rachel and Vincent…  
"Miss Dalles, please answer my question from earlier," the doctor softly demanded. "I hate to repeat it based on your reaction, but it is of the utmost importance to be sure. Do these items—"  
"Yes," she quietly interjected. "This ring belongs to my brother-in-law, Count Vincent Phantomhive and the brooch to my older sister, Countess Rachel Phantomhive née Dalles, heads of the Phantomhive estate. Now please...leave me be."  
The doctor only nodded and made no move to retrieve the jewellery from her before exiting the room.

There was chance Ciel was alive; that was good news. Nevertheless, it was far from healing the irreparable wound left behind by the loss of the two people she never thought would leave her alone.

* * *

Ciel eventually appeared out of the blue some time later, though she could immediately see that he was no longer the innocent boy with the big, shining blue eyes of her sister that Angelina had once known. He had changed, had become cold, icy and distant, even to her. The adoring smile that noblewomen fawned over at every gathering was gone, replaced by a type of seriousness she could never have imagined for him before. He was a bit taller and much paler, and something appeared to have happened to his right eye, though she did not press for details. With him arrived a mysterious butler dressed head-to-toe in black that no one knew.  
A butler who bore a striking resemblance to Vincent.

Vincent…

Her heart ached.

 _"Ciel!" Angelina cried out, enwrapping her nephew, her only living family member left, in a tight hug. "Heavens, I never thought I would be fortunate enough to see you again!"_  
 _"Hello, Auntie Anne," he announced._  
 _A pang hit her then. The last time he had greeted her, he had been full of the joy and energy of a young boy of his age._  
 _Now…_  
 _Now he was frigid; behaving more as a frozen adult instead of the ten-year-old child he actually was._  
 _"Aah...you're nothing but skin and bones!" she worried, cupping his face in with her crimson red-gloved hands. "I'm so happy that you, at least, are safe!"_  
 _Only about an hour or so after his arrival, a carriage waited in front of her home, ready for Ciel and his butler to depart._  
 _"Thank you for even seeing a carriage for me, Auntie Anne," he thanked._  
 _Her face fell. "Are you really going? Why not stay with me toni—"_  
 _"No, I'm going," he interrupted. "I...want to see it with my own eyes."_  
 _She nodded in understanding and truthfully, she did. She would feel the same way.  
Angelina pulled her nephew into a final hug._  
 _"If it's any comfort," Ciel whispered into her ear. "When I found..._ them _that day, I found them together. I was too late and I know that, but...they were in each other's arms when I saw them. They left this world holding each other. I just thought that perhaps you would want to know."_  
 _Angelina's arms turned rigid as his words set in._  
 _Vincent and Rachel had died in each other's embrace. Rachel died not just next to, not just with, but in the very arms of the man that both Dalles sisters loved._  
 _Tears that she had been struggling to keep away all this time appeared in her eyes as she held Ciel, a boy completely oblivious to the fact that his dear Auntie Anne was_  
 _in love with his father too and had been in love with him for far too long._  
 _She recalled the brooch and the ring recovered from the ashes. She had been told that they had been found side by side...of course Vincent and Rachel died together._  
 _What had occurred in those final moments? Had it been Vincent to take Rachel into his arms or vice versa? Knowing how much Vincent truly cared for Rachel, it would not be a surprise at all if it were the former._  
 _He loved Rachel enough to breathe his final breaths, live his final seconds and speak his final words with her._  
 _Yet another thing Angelina envied of her sister. However, she couldn't ever let Ciel know of her secret feelings. It was better that way._  
 _"Yes…" Angelina finally answered. "Your parents loved each other so very much, Ciel. I have lived on this earth for thirty-two years and have never seen a love quite like theirs. That reminds me."_  
 _She pulled away to procure the golden Phantomhive ring from her pocket. Taking Ciel's hand, she placed it in his palm._  
 _"Ciel, I give this to you." She sniffed. "Everything else was lost in the fire. This was all that was left. It belongs on the hand of the Earl Phantomhive. You, my dear Ciel."_  
 _Ciel looked up at her. "Thank you," he responded._  
 _It was the last thing he said before turning to go into the carriage._

Had his mother's brooch not been as damaged as it was, Angelina would have given Ciel that too. Instead, she kept it on her mantle next to a framed photo of her and the Phantomhives—Vincent, Rachel, Ciel and the family dog, Sebastian—along with Elizabeth and Francis Midford, Vincent's sister. In the picture, Angelina wore one of her signature vibrant red gowns.  
Red. That ever-present colour.  
She hated it. She hated that blasted colour red that had been the cause of all her sadness and misery. She despised it as much as she despised herself. She had lost everything because of that God-forsaken colour.

Ciel...the only one who had returned...the one who resembled her sister so much...the child of her sister and _him_. By right, she should have been overjoyed that Ciel had made it back, yet her heart continued its feeling of uneasiness. Ciel was obviously back but...why couldn't _he_ come back as well? Why was that child still living but _he_ remained dead?  
 _His_ child. Her sister's child; the very sister who stole _him_ away from Angelina's side.  
Angelina began feeling a type of rage she had never known. Why couldn't Vincent have come back? Why did she have to continue being denied the things she desired the _most?!_  
...Why couldn't the person who became one with Vincent be her…? Why couldn't she have died with him?  
Rachel stole away everything Angelina desired and for what? She was dead now! She wasn't here to enjoy the pleasures she once had! It was a waste!  
 _I deserved to die with him!_ Angelina wanted to scream. _Not her!_

 _WHY DID IT ALWAYS HAVE TO BE RACHEL?!_

* * *

Angelina had been moved into a different ward at the hospital she worked in. Now, she dealt completely with women's health after giving up her research to find a cure to asthma she no longer needed. Women came to her with every medical problem they had. She was fine with the mindless work she did and had no problems with anything.  
That was, until women, usually prostitutes, began coming to her to schedule operations to remove their uteruses and unborn children.  
The thought of women volunteering to destroy any chance of having children disturbed Angelina and set something off within her. After losing her own uterus years before and suffering the mental trauma that came with it, she loathed the women that came to her asking to have them mental stability she had achieved over the years cracked and something in her set off.

One night, she had found one of the women who had had the procedure and killed her.  
Angelina became stained with that ever prominent red as she kept hurting and hurting and hurting the woman. It was as if she was taking out all of the frustration and pain she had kept hidden for nearly twenty damned years out on this woman who had what Angelina had no choice but to lose and was giving it up anyways.  
There was so much red. It lay in her hair, her clothes, the cobblestones and the knife she couldn't stop plunging. She had never seen that much red her entire life.  
A strange being appeared then, with long red hair and a scarlet trench coat wielding a saw. They expressed their interest with her 'activities' and offered to lend a hand.  
Angelina Dalles was gone by then, replaced with the now vengeful and psychotic Madam Red and 'Jack the Ripper,' who would make these women pay.

With the aid of this Grim Reaper, she would paint London that colour she hated.

Yes...the streets would go red.

* * *

Her life was ending.

After thirty-four harrowing years, the life of Angelina Dalles was coming to an end. Betrayed by the Grim Reaper that had helped her kill all those ungrateful women, she had been stabbed through with what he referred to as his Death Scythe.  
She lay defeated on the ground as her body took its last gasps of air. She could dimly hear Ciel's voice and the sound of a tussle in the background, presumably between the Grim Reaper and Ciel's butler, whom to this day still reminded her so very much of Vincent.  
She was truly pathetic. What had she done with her life? She had lost everything she had ever given so much as a damn about: every family member she loved with the exception of Ciel. She fell for a man she knew she could never have, her sister's fiancée, an act alone that was betrayal to Rachel. Angelina had given up on her medical research after losing Rachel for her own selfish reasons. She had done nothing good or worthwhile through her entire life and now it was over.

As she bled out, film strips depicting her memories exploded from her mind. She saw herself playing with Rachel, the both of them very young and her mother's calming and beautiful gaze; her father laughing with his bright hair flying about and their once-happy dinner conversations; Angelina's decision to begin hiding her locks as she was tormented by the other schoolgirls and Rachel rushing to defend her; the white lilies on their mother's coffin and later, the flaming red daisies on their father's.  
The hot summer of 1869 in all its blazing glory; Vincent's kind smile warmer than the plaguing sun itself.

 _"Your hair is very beautiful, Anne, like spider lilies blazing in the fields."  
_

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of his voice.  
Vincent...God, she loved him. No matter how many years went by, her feelings for him never faded. She had been crushed when she learned of his death and still wallowed in the misery left behind by it.

 _"I really do love him, Anne. I could never have imagined love to feel this way, nor could I have thought it would be directed towards the infamous Earl Phantomhive."_

Rachel...Angelina's biggest sin.  
The only person Angelina cherished more than Vincent was her beloved older sister. Rachel had been smart, compassionate, kind and real.  
At the end of the day, Angelina realized that she didn't deserve Vincent. If anyone did, it was Rachel, whose mind was as pure and unblemished as her skin. Angelina's thoughts were much the opposite; her mind tainted with the traitorous and unloyal dreams about her sister's fiancé; the burning passion she still felt after nearly twenty years.  
Visions of the both of them danced through her mind, both good moments and bad.

 _"I am Vincent Phantomhive and please, refer to me by my given name as well."  
_ The moment she first laid eyes on the Earl Phantomhive.

 _"You see, Vincent and I are to be married!"  
_ Angelina's first experience with heartbreak, when Rachel admitted that she was betrothed to Vincent.

 _"With this ring, I thee wed," Vincent proclaimed as he slid the golden band onto Rachel's hand.  
_ _"I do," Rachel announced with her most blazing smile yet as they secured their oaths with a kiss.  
_ The very second that promised Angelina that she would never have Vincent for as long as she lived. The gazes full of endearment held between his and Rachel's eyes that night were undeniably true, undeniably real.

 _"She had another asthma attack the other night, Anne. I worry for her," Vincent confessed quietly in secret during one of Angelina's many visits.  
_ _"She will recover, there is no need to fret," she assured. "I'll find a cure for her. I swear it!"  
_ A broken promise, never to be fulfilled. Vincent always worried whenever Rachel grew ill and despite being the incredibly busy man he was, he cared for her as best he could.

 _"Ciel...his name will be Ciel," Rachel said with a weak smile as she and Vincent held their newborn son._

 _I'm sorry for being unable to protect you,_ Angelina mentally told Ciel. Although he caused her great suffering when he was born, she adored him; even now as he looked at her with sadness coating his remaining eye that mirrored Rachel's.

 _"I wish mother could play with me more often," the six-year-old Ciel told her._  
 _Angelina gave him a comforting pat on the head. "I'm sure your mother will be better shortly. I promise to always be by your side until she is. I will protect you, Ciel."  
_ _He smiled up at her in gratitude.  
_ _"I'm sorry you always I have to play with him!" Rachel shouted from the chair she sat in not too far away with her parasol.  
_ _Angelina grinned in return. "Oh, it's alright! I actually do love children—"  
_ _"Father!" Ciel loudly proclaimed.  
_ _She was cut off by Vincent's sudden appearance behind his wife. They shared a brief kiss before motioning to Ciel to come closer.  
_ _Ciel obediently skipped to his parents' sides alongside the dog, Sebastian. Vincent gleefully took his son into his arms.  
_ _"I thought the weather was rather splendid today, so why not play around for the rest of the day? Tanaka can take care of the rest," Vincent explained.  
_ _"Yay!" Ciel cheered, clapping his little hands together.  
_ Angelina bit her bottom lip. Ciel...Vincent...Rachel...the perfect family. If envy truly was one of the Seven Deadly Sins, Angelina would be damned to hell for eternity. _  
_Ciel had changed greatly after the death of his parents, understandably so. The titles of the Earl Phantomhive and the Queen's Watchdog had been thrust upon him when he was merely a child. The always smiling, always bouncing little boy Angelina knew had died in the fire that consumed this parents and home two years ago.

 _"I'm terribly sorry, Anne. He did not survive the crash."  
_ The crash that claimed the lives of her husband and unborn baby. She still bore the scars of it to this day, both physical and mental.

 _"They...they were found dead in the manor. Or rather, what was left of them."  
_ The words that were seared into her mind and served as a constant reminder of when she lost the two people most important to her. The worst part had always been never knowing who actually stole them away from her.

 _"They were in each other's arms when I saw them. They left this world holding each other."  
_ The statement that consumed her since she was first told it by Ciel. How dare she envy her sister for dying with the man they loved, in his arms.  
That, Angelina realized, was where Rachel belonged: next to her devoted husband, even in death. Their love was the stuff of fairy tales; one that most could only dare to dream of.  
With her last bit of strength, she scoffed at herself. How silly of her to think that she could rival against her sister; that Vincent would ever love her more than Rachel. Even if the older Dalles had died prematurely, his eyes would never look at another woman, much less Angelina, the same way again.  
How stupid she was for not identifying the same love Burnett had for her; how he knew she had feelings for another and married her despite that. How dare she not see how much she actually had.  
Tears streamed from her eyes, coating her cheeks and her red hair.

 _Red_.  
Omnipresent red: the colour of her wretchedness. The colour of her hair, her dresses, the colour she was _known_ for.

The colour of her bandages after the crash.

The shade of the fire that destroyed the only home and family she'd ever truly known.

The hue she stained her victims' bodies with.

The colour that ultimately ruined her.

She despised red.

Her final breaths drew out as England's cold night air flew over her. Angelina slowly felt her grip on life slip away; her eyelids too heavy to keep open.  
Behind her closed eyes, Angelina could see the spider lilies in the gardens of the Phantomhive manor she once knew and missed every passing day. Two hands extended towards her, one clothed in white and the other in lavender, which led to the two warm smiles she never imagined she'd see again.

 _Anne?_

The sunlight of that summer of 1869 shone in the sky above her as Angelina Dalles took her sister and brother-in-law's outstretched hands and finally felt happiness, _true_ happiness, for the first time in her long pitiful life. Only one haunting and woeful thought stuck in her mind as she blissfully joined them, the two people she loved more than her own life, more than herself, more than the world.

 _Ciel, I've left you alone again, haven't I?_

 _...I'm sorry…_

* * *

 **I realized only while editing that Vincent travelled to the Dalles' house instead of the other way around when they first met. Oh well...let's just call this my interpretation.  
** **This story was a great change of pace for me as I have _never_ written a story focused on the (canon) 'losing' side of a love triangle, plus it was a lot of fun to write in general! I'm all about angst anyways, so I hope I wrote a good version of events.  
Thanks for reading!**


End file.
